


The Cure

by Kat_Rowe



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Headaches & Migraines, Het, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 10:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11598840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Rowe/pseuds/Kat_Rowe
Summary: Utter fluff. James gets a migraine and Helen stumbles on a unique method for curing it. (Previously posted on fanfiction.net).





	The Cure

Helen looked up from her microscope as a maid appeared to take away the tea things, glancing at the clock and letting out a surprised noise.

"Ma'am?" the maid asked, giving her a quizzical look.

"Oh, I'm just surprised by the time. Normally James would have joined me by now. Did he go out, do you know?"

"His maid says he sent her away this morning when she came with his breakfast and hasn't stirred from his room since."

"Oh! Why did no one tell me?" she protested, rising and smoothing her dress. "He must be ill. I should have been summoned at once," she chided as she hurried from the room, ignoring the girl's protests that the Master hadn't wanted her to be bothered.

It wasn't like James to stay in bed into the afternoon. Even when he'd managed to contract malaria in India, a subsequent flare-up had not prevented him from sitting in his study instead of staying in bed. Something must have been seriously wrong indeed if he hadn't left his bedroom yet.

She entered without knocking, and the room was mostly dark, the gas-light low and every curtain tightly drawn. Approaching the bed, she asked gently, "James, darling, are you awake?"

He groaned in response and, in the near-darkness, she saw his hand reaching for her. Biting her lip, she hurried to his side and took his hand gently in both of hers, relieved to find the skin not at all feverish. He'd applied a compress to his face at some point, but it looked dried out now.

"Darling, can you tell me what's wrong?" she asked him gently, squeezing his hand and kneeling next to the bed. "Are you in pain?"

"Mmm." He nodded faintly, his voice slurring a bit as he explained, "Migraine."

"Oh, you poor dear," she whispered, removing the dried compress and gently stroking his forehead.

It was unexpected, to be sure, but not as serious as she'd been worried his situation might be. Even if he hadn't had one in years now, James had been prone to migraines in his childhood, and suffered them extensively after first injecting the Source. They were painful and nasty things, to be sure, but nothing to be unduly alarmed over. He just needed time and rest, and gentle care. She was glad to be a doctor in a moment like this. Years of training and practice had made her good at keeping her voice low and soothing and her touches gentle.

"Have you been sick?" she asked gently, knowing that sometimes that unpleasant event signalled a turning-point in the pain.

"Not for hours."

"No? Are you still in much pain? I can give you some laudanum."

"I suppose a drop or two. But not too much..."

"No, not too much," she promised, kissing the corner of his mouth and moving to retrieve his doctor's bag.

While not the drug addict that Arthur had made Sherlock Holmes into, James was, undeniably, far too fond of the effect of certain drugs. A casual and responsible user of many popular drugs in his youth, his use of both cocaine and opiates had grown alarming in the weeks after the discovery of John's crimes. He'd made himself quite sick when he'd finally discontinued their use. Ever since, he'd made a conscious point of avoiding anything stronger than brandy whenever possible. When illness or injury forced him to use anything potentially addictive, he always insisted on her personally monitoring his consumption. He wouldn't trust any other doctor with the task and, if she was not available, he went without, to an almost absurd extent. A few years ago, he'd fractured his arm, and staunchly refused anything for the pain until she'd arrived to take over his treatment.

But, in a clear illustration of his absolute trust for her, he obediently drank down the little tumbler of laudanum and water she pressed to his lips without even questioning how much of a dose she'd given him.

She smiled at that and again kissed the corner of his mouth, whispering against his cheek, "That should start to help with the pain. I'll just wet your compress again and then join you."

He turned his head at that, frowning at her. "You must have work to do?"

"For you, work can wait," she assured him, smiling warmly. "You'll feel better with company. You always do."

He didn't deny that, so she stepped into the other room and quickly soaked the compress in cold water, wringing it out before moving to join him again. He sighed with something like relief when she laid the cloth across his face. Murmuring soothingly, she squeezed his shoulder and then started peeling off her dress. After a moment's consideration, she slid out of her undergarments, too. Even when he was in no mood for sex, he adored the feel of her skin against his, and she hoped it might help take his mind off the pain now.

Shutting off the gas-light entirely, she groped her way around the bed and slid under the covers, pressing up against his side and resting her cheek against his shoulder. He sighed softly, wrapping an arm around her.

"Thank you, darling," he murmured. "I think this is precisely what I've been needing."

"You should have sent for me, foolish man," she answered, kissing his shoulder.

"I didn't want to worry you."

"It worried me more to hear through someone else that you had taken to bed. That's so unlike you..."

"Well, I've been more than a bit dizzy."

"You don't have to excuse yourself, darling. Just rest. A few hours of sleep will do you good."

"I suspect you're right," he agreed. "Will you lay across my chest? I love feeling your weight like that. It's so soothing."

"Aren't you worried you might enjoy that a bit too much?" she teased.

"If I were to, it might take my mind off the pain," he pointed out in a 'reasonable' tone.

"James Watson!" she giggled quietly. "Are you _always_ in the mood for sex?"

"With a lover like you, it would be a wonder if I wasn't."

"You're hardly in any state for it," she pointed out.

"I'm not asking, you know. I just want you close to me. I would never insist on anything more than you're willing to offer."

"Fine," she murmured, biting her lip and sliding down on top of his chest. "Is this better?"

"Infinitely, yes," he assured her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her shoulder. "Thank you, darling."

"Any time, James, although I do hope this doesn't become a regular occurrence."

"Lord, I hope not. One can barely describe how unpleasant a migraine can be."

"But you are feeling a bit better now, right?"

"I'm in much less pain."

"Good."

They lay in comfortable silence after that, his fingers stroking lightly over her back and shoulders. He'd always been a glutton for all forms of stimulus, and the feel of warm skin under his fingertips was one which he claimed soothed him immensely. He doubtless had other motives for liking to caress her so much, but she enjoyed it too much to complain. Besides, she'd long believed that there was genuine therapeutic value in human contact, although she was at a loss to explain the mechanism. Still, there was proof enough that babies denied basic contact would quickly languish. There was no reason why it shouldn't be equally true of adults. Certainly she felt much happier and healthier now that James was providing her with regular physical interaction.

Of course, as was virtually inevitable when lovers lay naked together, whether for innocent reasons or not, James did start to react to the feel of her body against his. Biting her lip, she did her best to ignore his growing erection. It was a purely physiological reaction, after all, and didn't necessarily mean he wanted anything more from her than they were already sharing. She knew that, if his need grew overwhelming, he would ask her for what he desired. He hadn't been shy about that sort of thing since the first weeks of their relationship.

But, for the time being, he seemed content simply to enjoy the embrace and ignore his own arousal. Or, more likely, he was enjoying the sensation of arousal immensely and simply chose not to escalate matters. He was, after all, a sensualist at heart, well able to enjoy life's small pleasures without immediately seeking out greater ones.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" she asked finally, once it seemed obvious that his arousal was not ebbing.

"Immensely. My current state actually seems to be lessening the pain even more than the laudanum did," he informed her.

She frowned down at him, shaking her head. "You can't be serious?"

"But I am. Being close to you helped a bit but, as I started to grow aroused, it became much more pronounced," he told her, removing the compress from his face and leaning up to kiss her.

She smiled against his lips, returning the kiss gently for a few moments before breaking it. "This seems like a fascinating phenomenon."

"Yes, and perhaps one we should study further?"

She bit her lip at that. "Are you quite sure you're well enough, James?"

"Just be gentle with me," he answered, a smile in his tone.

And, she had to admit, he did sound better. His voice was steadier, stronger, less thick and slurred. His symptoms were clearly abating. Smiling in relief, she bent and kissed him again. Tangling a hand in her hair, he returned the kiss languidly, moaning softly.

"Do you want the light?" he offered, fingers kneading her scalp.

"It might be too much for your eyes," she pointed out. "Just this once, I'll forgo my view of your magnificent body."

"As much as I enjoy seeing your face and body, you may have a point," he conceded. "I imagine we'll find our way together, even in the pitch black."

She smiled at that, pointing out, "I can already feel exactly where you need me."

"And I do need you," he answered, urging her to sit up astride his body. "But do you need me, yet?" he added, hand sliding down her body.

She wet her lips at that, squirming a bit and challenging him, "Make a deduction, Sherlock."

"Do _not_ call me that," he growled, fingers finding her folds and stroking firmly.

She gasped softly at the little thrill that sent through her, nodding eagerly. "Yes, James..."

"That's better." Chuckling, he stroked her folds more firmly, pressing his fingers between the swollen ridges of tissue and rubbing firmly.

"Lord," she groaned, bracing her hands against his chest with a happy noise.

Making a pleased sound of his own, James continued rubbing, fingers slowly edging higher and higher, closer and closer to her arousal, already aching for his deft touches. He loved to tease her, to make her wait, and sometimes even to beg, for her pleasure. But, in the end, he always did give her exactly what she needed. This time, he didn't make her ask.

She gasped as he found her arousal, moaning and trembling as he caressed in slow circles. "Oh, James."

"That's right, lass," he rasped, and she could hear his breath coming faster. "I love the sounds you make like this."

"It's not fair. You hardly make a sound, but you always coax so many out of me..."

"You're like a beautiful instrument, and I take true pleasure in playing on you."

She snorted a bit at the simile, shaking her head. "You are ridiculous."

His only response to that was to capture her arousal between two fingers and rub in quick, rough circles. Sobbing softly, she jerked against his hand, her own clutching at his chest. Pleasure broke over her in waves, and she could only gasp and whimper as it took her. James had never been one to do anything halfway. After a small eternity, she finally had to push his hand away as it became almost too much to bear.

"I... I should call you ridiculous more often," she panted, resisting the urge to just collapse against his chest after that.

He chuckled in answer to that, caressing her thighs. "You don't have to resort to petty insults to get what you want from me, lass..."

"But insulting you is so much fun," she pointed out, shifting down his body and sliding her heat against his arousal.

"Mmm, then feel free to keep doing it," he groaned, hips rocking gently under hers.

"Don't worry, I will," she assured him, gently grasping his arousal and lifting her hips.

He groaned softly as she sank onto him, a noise almost lost in the sound of her own moan. He was such a perfect fit that welcoming him into her always gave her a special kind of thrill. Sighing with pleasure, she rocked gently against him, bracing her hands against his chest and feeling like she could carry on like that forever.

"Helen," he breathed, gently grasping her hips. "Oh, darling..."

"Mmm, is this helping, James?"

"Oh, Lord, yes!"

"Good."

She kept rocking slowly against him, until his hands found her breasts and squeezed gently. Groaning happily, she rocked harder, whimpering a little as pleasure started to build again. James was rocking quickly under her, his breathing rapid and shallow and his fingers digging roughly into her breasts. Panting and nodding, she started rocking hard and fast, tearing a quiet cry from him.

"Helen, _yes!_ "

"James," she gasped, hips moving urgently up and down as she carried them both higher. "Oh!"

He cried out in agreement, hands leaving her breasts and grabbing the sheets instead as he tensed, panting and trembling. Sobbing softly, she kept going for him, gasping and nodding as he twitched against her, filling her with wet heat.

"Oh, James," she sighed, unable to resist the urge to reach down and rub her own arousal as he rode out his pleasure. _"Yes!"_ she cried as it took her again, jerking over him a few times before collapsing against his chest. "Oh," she panted, chest heaving against his, "Oh, James."

"Darling," he groaned, hands stroking absently over her back. "Oh, my head..."

She gasped at that, sitting up a little and taking his face gently in both her hands. "Was that too much for you?"

"No. Lord, woman, my head feels _amazing_!"

She had to giggle at that, shaking her head. "What a strange cure."

"I don't find it all that strange. In fact, I think it's the most pleasant medical treatment I've ever had. We'll have to try it next time I fall ill as well."

"Mmm, well I have no objection," she assured him, lips finding his in the dark for a tender kiss. "Oh, James," she sighed, smiling against his lips and hugging him to her.

"My darling," he answered with a happy sigh of his own, tangling a hand in her hair. He started to speak again, but his words were lost in a yawn. "Oh, forgive me."

"Shh," she urged, kissing him silent. "You're exhausted, darling. Rest."

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not. Don't be foolish."

"Very well, then, but don't let me sleep through supper."

"You and your appetites."

"Not at all. It's merely one of the few uninterrupted hours I have with you every day, my darling. As such, I look forward to it jealously."

"Flatterer," she murmured with a smile, tucking her head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. "You know, I think I'll join you in your nap. This is so cosy."

"It truly is," he agreed, with a very obvious smile in his voice. "Besides, I'm feeling disinclined to let go of you."

She smiled and didn't answer. As independent as she could be at times, she loved James dearly, and seldom minded being detained in his arms. He was, perhaps, fonder of cuddling than she, but they both enjoyed it. And to do so in total comfortable silence was rare. Too often, their minds were full of projects and puzzles to discuss with one another. Right now, though, was a little oasis of peace that she would have been reluctant to leave even if he'd been eager to let her go. For a brief moment in time, there was nothing in the world but Helen Magnus and James Watson, and it was absolutely beautiful.

Sighing happily, she listened in the darkness as his breathing slowed and evened out. He'd been in a pitiable state when she'd first come into the room, and it was a relief to see him resting comfortably now that she'd helped him recover. It was a strange cure, and one she looked forward to exploring with him in more detail the next time he was indisposed. Not that he seemed likely to have another migraine any time soon, but she rather suspected that, if the cure had worked on one of those, it would work miracles when brought to bear on all the little aches and pains of daily life. And, she suspected, James would enjoy the experiments quite as much as she herself. Smiling at the thought, she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

**The End**

 

 


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